


Chicken Noodle Soup

by ScorpioSkies



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 02:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScorpioSkies/pseuds/ScorpioSkies
Summary: When Becky falls ill on a mission, Danse finds the perfect remedy.





	Chicken Noodle Soup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beckiboos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckiboos/gifts).



> This was written for the wonderful Beckiboos, featuring her OC Becky! It's a feel-good fic where Danse takes care of his best bud and favourite soldier! Enjoy!

By the time Becky and Danse reached Diamond City, her symptoms had worsened. She sniffed beneath the cover of her scarf but was forced to breathe through her mouth, another wave of dizziness pulsing in time with her headache. She staggered, only to feel a hand grab her arm and steady her before she pitched down the catwalk and into the mud. 

 

“Easy there, soldier,” Danse frowned, relaxing his grip. Not for the first time, she wondered just how he could be gentle enough not to bruise her despite donning his power armour. She supposed it was a habit he’d had to develop since becoming her mentor and then her…  _ friend _ . Also her crush, but nobody else needed to know about that. 

 

She cleared her throat and rasped; “Thanks for that.” 

 

“You’re welcome, though I think we should probably get you to a doctor.” 

 

“‘M not that bad!” Becky waved him off, took another step and overbalanced on the railing. She leaned on it, pulling down her scarf so she wouldn’t cough all over it. When the coughing fit was over she turned to find Danse giving her his best C.O. glare. It might have been more effective if it didn’t also make him smoulder. 

 

She shook the thought from her head, then realised she’d actually shaken her head when Danse quirked a brow. She cleared her throat again and ran a hand through her hair, trying to look as healthy as she could, all things considered. Sure, she’d looked pale in the mirror that morning with shadows under her eyes, and yes, her nose may have been red and raw but -- 

 

Her elbow slipped on the bar and she slipped down it before catching herself, another cough escaping her lips. 

 

The catwalk grille shuddered under her boots as Danse stepped closer, his brows knitting together. “Alright, Becky. Enough with the heroics. I’m ordering you to visit the local doctor, am I clear?” 

 

“You’re the Paladin,” Becky rasped, giving him a sloppy salute. 

 

Danse sighed through his nose -- Becky envied him that -- and gestured for her to keep walking. Becky leaned on the rail the whole way down to keep herself centred and walking relatively straight, though when her boots hit the muddy walkways of the street her path became a drunken weave. 

 

“Lean on my armour if you need to,” Danse frowned, falling in step beside her. “And stay close.” 

 

Becky blinked, her brow crinkling in a frown as she processed his words. He wordlessly offered his arm in a gesture that was old fashioned by pre-war days. Praying her blush looked like fever and telling herself that this was purely professional, Becky reached out and rested her arm on top of it, dazedly wondering what it would feel like without the layers of steel between them. 

 

Between Danse’s armour and Becky’s coughing fits, they forged a path toward Dr Sun’s clinic in no time at all. Twenty minutes and forty caps later they were enroute to Home Plate, a bottle of meds safely locked in a compartment of Danse’s power armour and Becky’s pack slung over his pauldron. 

 

The dizziness seemed worse than before, and Becky was more than grateful for her steel chaperone helping her stay on her feet. When they reached the door, she fumbled the key in the lock for a few moments before the bolt snapped back and allowed them entry. 

 

Becky crossed the threshold first and turned on the light. The bulb flickered before it flared, revealing the dusty but familiar interior. Her boots dragged across the carpet as she made for the nearest couch and gladly dropped on top of it, heaving a long and heavy sigh. She didn’t have the energy to do anything other than close her eyes and try to drift off, or will her headache into submission. Whichever came first. 

 

She heard the door close and lock somewhere behind her, and moments later a shadow blotted out the weak light of the bulb. 

 

“Come on, soldier. You should get up to your bed and rest properly.” 

 

Becky mumbled into the pillows. Had the words been audible, she was pretty sure they wouldn’t have made sense, anyway. 

 

“Becky…” Danse’s voice sounded closer this time, and moments later she felt his hands grip her shoulders, gently but firmly. He pulled her upright and she groaned, reluctantly sitting up. Her eyes snapped open when she felt the heat of his hand against her forehead. 

 

He was crouching slightly, lips pressed into a hard line as he pulled his hand away. “You’re definitely in need of rest,” he said at length. “I shouldn’t have let you go into the field.” 

 

“It’s fine,” Becky mumbled. “Just need to sleep and take the meds.” 

 

“Either way, I think you’d be better off resting in your bed.” 

 

“Stairs.” 

 

“Stairs?” 

 

“Stairs,” Becky mumbled again, her eyelids already drooping. 

 

There was a moment of silence, and then the couch cushions dipped beside her. “C’mon,” Danse said firmly, draping one of arms over his shoulders and slipping his arm around her waist. “Let’s get you up there.” 

 

Usually, Becky would have been elated at the contact -- but when he pulled her up with him the world lurched uncomfortably and the dizzy feeling returned with a vengeance, leaving her head swimming. It took her a few moments to realise her head had lolled onto his shoulder, but she was too tired to try and stand upright. 

 

Her feet dragged a few steps and then Danse suddenly adjusted his hold, crouching down. The world spun again, and by the time it righted itself Becky realised she was off the ground and across his shoulders. 

 

“This’ll be faster and we’ll be less likely to fall down the stairs,” he explained, already climbing the first step. 

 

“I’ll try not to sneeze,” Becky promised to which Danse snorted. 

 

“It would be appreciated.” 

 

\-- 

 

When her eyelids fluttered open, Becky had to blink to resolve her vision from blurry shadows into legible shapes. She could hear footsteps thumping up the stairs -- they sounded muffled, like the cotton wool in her head were seeping into her ears -- and Danse appeared, carrying two bowls in his hands. 

 

Becky carefully eased herself upright as he sat in the chair beside her bed. It might have been the chems, but she thought he was… smiling. 

 

“Today you’re in luck,” Danse announced, offering one of the bowls to her. She took it, the plastic just hot enough that she didn’t want to drop it on the sheets. On second thoughts, she didn’t want to drop it on the sheets period. That would be a whole new headache to deal with on top of the one she had. 

 

Inside the bowl was a noodle soup, the broth golden brown with pale meat and a number of wasteland vegetables floating alongside the noodles. “What is it?” 

 

“A delicacy. Chicken noodle soup. I was browsing the market when I saw a merchant selling genuine poultry and… well, I read somewhere that as far back as pre-war times, chicken soup has medicinal properties.” 

 

Becky inhaled the steam rising from the bowl - she couldn’t really smell it, but the steam made it comforting somehow. That and the thought that someone actually gave enough of a damn not only to get her safely home, but then to stick around and look after her. She wasn’t really used to that. 

 

Movement in her peripheral vision startled her from her thoughts, and she turned to find Danse holding a fork for her. He was smiling, his expression warm and a little amused. Her heart stuttered and she quickly took the fork from his hands, hastily tangling it in chicken noodles before shoving it in her mouth as a distraction. 

 

She couldn’t think about confusing emotions if she was focused on taste. Or how the broth was still too hot and now burning her tongue. She kept her mouth open, trying to cool it with puffs of breath and Danse chuckled -  _ actually chuckled _ \- in his seat. 

 

“You might wanna let it cool down, first,” he said dryly, his eyes twinkling as she finally began to chew. “Cutler used to burn himself on them all the time.” 

 

His eyes dropped to his bowl and he took his first bite. His mood was still positive, if a little somber. 

 

“They’re good,” Becky finally supplied, and she meant it - sure, she was a few tastebuds short now, and they’d been dulled by her blocked nose, but she had detected some flavour and, by wasteland standards, it was practically gourmet. “Did you put something spicy in it?” 

 

“A good soldier is always prepared, and Proctor Teagan occasionally stocks flavour packets to give rations a kick. The noodles and broth I got from the Chinese robot,” he added. “I’m not sure what its mission or intentions are, but it does make one hell of a noodle cup and none of the citizens eating there exhibited signs of illness so-” 

 

Becky sputtered into noodles, chest aching as she coughed. 

 

“Whoah - easy, Becky. Are you alright?” 

 

Despite how painful the laughter was, Becky couldn’t suppress it, or the smirk that lit up her face as she turned to face him. “Aw Danse. Don’t ever change.” 

 

Danse raised his eyebrows and his expression set her off again, so much so she had to set the bowl aside for a moment and try to get it under control. As she doubled over, gasping for air between the laughs, Danse snorted and smiled himself. 

 

“Don’t you ever change, either.”


End file.
